Page 14 of The Forever Formula
“Yes, sorry about this. Just tidying up. Thank you for coming all the way out. You didn’t have to do that. I’d have picked, um,him, up.”
I wasn’t even sure how to say that. Pick up Grandpa? Pickitup? I shook off the thought.
“His ashes are back here.” Mr. Davis nodded and opened the door to the back seat of the car. He produced a small black urn and passed it to me.
I took the vessel in both hands, and in an instant, time seemed to slow around me. This was all that was left of my grandfather.
What was the last thing I even said to him? ProbablyI love you, because that’s how we ended all our calls. Had he known how much he meant to me?
A tear broke free and rolled down my cheek. I tucked the urn under my arm and wiped the wetness away, sniffling. “Sorry.”
“I completely understand,” Mr. Davis said kindly. “If you ever want to talk and swap old stories about your grandpa, or if you need anything, just give me a call.”
I fixed a grateful smile on my face and thanked him.
“Then I guess I’ll leave you to it,” he said kindly, and got back into his car.
Once I was back inside the house, the excitement of painting seemed gauche. Even the cheerful music I’d been painting to seemed out of place. I quickly paused the track on my phone and let silence take over.
There it was, sitting on the counter. An urn containing my grandfather’s ashes. The only parent I’d ever known. The only relative I ever had.
I buried my face in my hands and ugly cried. The sobs heaved my shoulders up and down, they were so powerful.
Eventually, though, the tears slowed. I blew my nose and moved the urn to the center of the mantel.
“You’re watching over me still, right?” I asked it.
I waited for an answer before deciding it was ayes. Of course he was. Grandpa was still with me. Always. Like he’d always said.
“Buck up, buttercup,” I said to myself like Grandpa used to.
As I headed back into the kitchen, I decided the only thing I wanted to do was keep my hands busy. I grabbed a screwdriver and got busy removing each piece of hardware off the cabinets, and then set to work giving them a fresh coat of paint.
By the time I finished, it was dark out and I was bone tired.
I looked a mess, needed a shower, and really needed to find something to eat. But before I could do any of that, there was a knock at my door.
My brow creased as I looked at the time. Eight thirty. Who would stop by so late?
I peered through the peephole and saw Noah standing on the other side, holding a plate covered in foil.
Crap. I didn’t want him to see me looking like this.
“One minute,” I called through the door before I ducked into the half bath in the hallway and splashed water on my face.
I smoothed out my hair the best I could and quickly yanked off the shirt I wore. I grabbed a fresh one from the top of my suitcase and sprayed a cloud of perfume around me. Finally, I sprinted back to the door so fast, I slid and slammed into it.
“Hey, you,” I tried to say in a smooth tone, but I was huffing and puffing from my frantic attempt at cleaning myself up.
“Long day?” he asked.
Did I look that bad?
Meanwhile, Noah looked like a thirst trap come to life. All that tall, broad-shouldered swagger, complete with dark jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt that showed off his physique. It readKodiak Creek Aleacross the chest in bold letters.
I slumped my shoulders. “Very. Is that fried chicken?” I could already smell it, and my mouth was watering.
His mouth lifted with the hint of a smile. “We had it for dinner. I remembered it was your favorite.”
